Title: Optional

Text: I die strangely. It is not life that kills me. It is not death that kills me, nor is it love; I die of a thought, mute as a wound. Have you never felt such a strange pain of an immense thought that is rooted in life, devouring flesh and soul, and without blooming? Have you never carried inside a dormant star that was burning you wholly without shining? Each paragraph will be a test.

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